


Family Guide

by kat_fanfic



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Angst, Drama, Kid Fic, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Pre-Slash, Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:31:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_fanfic/pseuds/kat_fanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*** Repost from 852 Prospect***</p><p>When four-fear-old Blair Sandburg decides to find his mum, it's Jim who's in trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Guide

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU. I changed the timeline to fit my purposes and the ages of the characters as well. Jim is about 22 here, while Steven is 13. Blair is, well, little. Oh, and Jim never was in the military, either, although the Sentinel stuff does make an appearance regardless. 
> 
> * EDIT: As of July 6th, 2014 I am working on continuing this and I have given what is now the first chapter of this story a quick overhaul. :)

Sharing with us what he knows  
His shining eyes are big and blue  
And all around him water flows  
This world to him is new

"Shimmer", Shawn Mullins 

* * *

Blair woke, cold and hungry. He slowly sat up, whimpering as the blanket fell way, exposing his tiny body to freezing air. 

"Mommy?" he asked quietly, still a little fuzzy from sleep. Looking around, he searched for the familiar face, and his gaze fell on the Jungle Book backpack standing near the bed. 

Blair's breath hitched a little as he desperately held the tears back. He was alone again, left behind with Susie and Mike. Naomi had told him that she wouldn't be gone long this time, she had to visit a sick aunt and promised to be back before his birthday. 

Blair had been brave, smiling up at her. He hated it when mommy went away, but he'd been in worse places than Susie's. That was before he got to know Mike, of course. Instinctively, the four-year-old had felt that the middle-aged man was faking the friendliness towards him, even if he was good at it. He'd fooled Naomi, and that took a lot. 

Not that he abused Blair in any way. He just tended to ignore the child, even forgetting to bring him food sometimes. Being unemployed, Mike was stuck at home with the task of taking care of a kid that wasn't even his own, and he hated every minute of it. 

In less than two weeks, Blair had worked through all of his coloring books, trying to stay out of Mike's way. The last ten days he'd spent learning the alphabet in earnest. Sitting on the bed, dressed in three t-shirts and two sweaters, due to the broken heater in his room, he studiously learned A's, B's and C's and how to string them together to build words. 

Naomi had raised an eyebrow when he'd wanted the book. "Sweetie, that's for school-kids," she'd said. "You're a lot too young for that." She'd shown him one about lions and panthers instead, but for once he'd been insistent and not to be swayed. 

Every day spend with Mike made Blair more glad of it - at least he had something to do. He'd always been an exceptionally bright child, startling his mother with his unusual abilities. At first, she'd been overwhelmed by the situation, not knowing what to do with the smart kid. She adapted to it fairly quick, though, gently encouraging her son, without expecting too much of him. 

Shivering, Blair crawled out of bed and slipped into his clothes. Wrinkling his nose, he checked his clean underwear and counted how many he had left. With a sigh, he realized that he'd have to do laundry soon. Being small for his age, that was not an easy task for him. He could always wait for Susie of course, but he knew that she was exhausted when coming from the hospital, where she worked as a nurse. He didn't want to bother her. 

Peeking out his door, he heard the muted sounds of the telly from the living room. He tiptoed in the opposite direction, not wanting to draw Mike's attention. When he reached the kitchen, Blair opened the fridge and got himself an apple. Sniffing at the milk he decided against cereals and helped himself to some toast. 

"I hope you didn't finish it. I won't go grocery shopping today." 

Startled, Blair whirled around. Mike was leaning against the doorframe, looking bored. "Um, hi Mike," the boy stuttered. 

"Drink juice," Mike said by way of an answer. "Susie was mad about that last night." 

Blair nodded, but Mike didn't stay to see it. Biting back sudden tears, Blair took one of the little bottles with orange juice out of the fridge and arranged everything on the small tray that Susie had bought for him. 

Carefully making his way back to the small guest-room, Blair heaved a sigh of relieve when he didn't spill or drop anything. Snuggling back under the covers, he ate the toast and took little sips of his juice. 

Once in a while he'd offer a few crumbs to Carson, but the stuffed bear just looked at him with a disgusted expression. Giggling, Blair turned him around. "So you don't have to see," he explained. He missed Naomi's pancakes just as much as Carson did. 

When he finished his meager breakfast, he once again got his book, plus the note-book Naomi had given him as a goodbye present. The pages were made out of recycled paper and on the front it had the picture of a wolf on it, head thrown back to howl at the moon. Blair had loved it the moment he'd seen it in the mall. 

Now he used it for his writing exercises, covering page after page with letters. This morning he was working on a special project - he wanted to write his mum. Staring down at the last page of the third chapter in his book, though, Blair was at a loss. He knew exactly what he wanted to write, he just couldn't make sense of the little pictures that were supposed to help him. 

A sudden noise in the hallway made him look up. Frowning as he recognized Susie's voice, Blair got up and silently opened the door. 

"...called me at the hospital," he heard her saying. She sounded strange somehow. "Oh god, Mike, she's gone. Naomi's gone!" 

Steps came near and as quickly as he could, Blair shut the door and jumped back on the bed. They didn't come in, though. Pondering what he'd just heard, the little boy tried to make sense of it. To him, it was obvious that his mommy was gone and he found it weird that Susie seemed to be upset about it. 

He opened the bedside drawer and took his letter out. Naomi had written him a week ago, two pages full of drawn sketches that told a story. She'd included a few words, probably to spur him on in his reading. Ignoring the letter itself completely, Blair turned the envelope around and stared at the address written there. 

"Mi..." he tried. "Minne... Min, Minneso..." Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment. "Minne...Minnesota." 

With a proud grin, Blair tried the word a few times, until it came naturally over his lips. Minnesota. He liked the name, it sounded nice. Nodding to himself, Blair began to pack his few belongings. 

"Don't worry, mommy," he whispered as he stuffed Carson into his backpack. "I'll find you." 

Sneaking out the house was easy. Looking around, Blair finally shrugged and began to walk in the direction of the big street. He was sure that someone there would know the way to Minnesota. 

* * *

Two hours later, Blair was tired and his feet hurt. He'd tried to ask a couple of people, but everyone had just looked at him with exasperation and had continued their way. No one seemed to care about the little boy with the huge Jungle book backpack, walking the streets alone. 

At a quiet corner, Blair stopped and opened his backpack. Taking out the apple he'd saved from breakfast, he sat down and bit in it heartily. 

"Well, well, well," a dark voice suddenly said from beside him. "What do we have here?" Looking up, Blair saw a man standing next to him. The four year old instantly took a dislike to the unshaven man with the cold green eyes. Nonetheless, his mommy had told him to be polite. 

"Hi," he said, scrambling to his feet. "I'm Blair." 

"Blair, huh?" The strange man grinned and instinctively, Blair took a step back. 

"What'cha doing here, all alone? Lost your mum?" One hand tangled itself in Blair's auburn locks, slowly caressing his face. 

Looking frantically around, not liking the way this stranger crowded him, Blair's gaze fell on a man standing next to a jewelery. He looked kinda sad, staring down at something in his hands. What caught the young boy's attention though, was the gleaming shield the man had on his belt. This was a policeman and would protect him. 

Glancing at the unshaven man, Blair made a quick decision. "Daddy!" he cried loudly, startling the stranger into releasing him. Running over to the policeman, Blair threw himself into arms that caught him on reflex. "Daddy, where were you? I thought I lost you, I was worried," he babbled, shooting glances in the direction of his suitcase. Relieved, he saw the unshaven man walk away quickly. 

Even now that the danger had passed, Blair was strangely reluctant to leave the man's embrace. It felt good to be held by him, almost as good as when his mommy snuggled with him. 

"Care to tell me what this is about, junior?" A warm voice asked eventually. Distracted by the rumbling sound of the man's chest, Blair didn't answer immediately. "Hey, you okay?" Gentle hands pried him away and checked him over. 

"I'm good, Sir," he answered politely. Naomi didn't like cops, but she'd told him to trust them when he got lost or was in danger. "I just wanted the man to go away," Blair explained, frowning when something poked him into the side. Looking down, his eyes went wide as he saw the gun peeking out of its holster. 

"What man?" the policeman asked, moving his jacket over the gun. 

"Oh, he's gone now. He touched my hair and I didn't like it." 

The clear blue eyes of the man suddenly darkened and Blair could feel the tightening of the arms that were still holding him. "Don't worry," he said soothingly, patting the man's shoulder. "You scared him away. I'm Blair Sandburg, what's your name?" 

Relaxing a little, the man smiled and held out his hand to Blair. "I'm Jim. Nice to meet you, Blair." They shook and Jim gently put Blair on the ground again. Suddenly the young boy remembered his trip and looking eagerly up at the policeman, he asked: "Do you know where Minnesota is?" 

* * *

Still stunned from being barreled into by a half-frantic kid, the calm question took Jim by surprise. Confused, he answered truthfully. "Yeah, sure, kid. Why?" 

A brilliant smile appeared on the little boy's face. "Can you show me the way, please?" 

Walking with Blair over to the little boy's bags, Jim looked around, checking the streets. "Say, kiddo, what are you doing here by yourself? Where are your parents?" 

Grinning cheekily, Blair took his abandoned apple and continued to eat. "Mom's in Minnesota," he mumbled with a full mouth. "I'm going to find her. Susie said my mommy's gone, but I'm going to find her." 

Jim frowned. The words didn't make much sense, but he had a bad feeling about the 'Mommy's gone' part. As he looked down at the boy, taking in the greedy way he wolfed down the fruit, Jim glanced at his watch. His lunch-break was almost over. Simon would be pissed if he was late again. 

Grinning, the cop took Blair's suitcase, noting absently how heavy it was, and said cheerily, "Come on. I'm hungry and there's a Wonderburger just around the corner. What do you say, my treat?" 

Watching him solemnly, Blair held his arms up in the air. Obediently, Jim picked the boy up, grunting a little as he hoisted him, plus backpack, into his arms. 

"Jim?" Blair asked after the first couple of steps. 

"Hm?" 

"Do they have veggie burgers?" 

* * *

Stuffed full with burgers, veggie ones for Blair, fries and a couple of milkshakes, Jim and Blair entered the bullpen more than a little late. For all his mature behavior, Blair was an incredible messy eater. Jim had watched, with a mix of fascination and horror, as the boy mixed mustard, ketchup and soy sauce - which one of the female waitresses had brought from somewhere, after Blair had made incredibly skillful puppy-dog eyes - put that on his burger, just to dip his fries in it before popping them into his mouth. 

"Yummy," was the sighed comment, for which Jim was really grateful. It was the first sign of Blair being a _child_. He'd barely recovered from the lecture about clogged arteries that the boy had sprouted at him after seeing his order. 

"How old are you, Blair?" Jim finally asked, just as they were about to leave the elevator. He'd tried to gently coax some information out of the boy, but to no account. Time for the direct attack. 

Suppressing a yawn, Blair struggled with his bag. "Four. I'll be five next month, though." 

"Ellison!" 

Whipping around at the yell, Blair stumbled over his stuff and landed hard on the floor. "Ow," he said softly, biting back a sudden sob. He was tired and still not nearer to Minnesota and he wanted his mommy. 

"Shit, you alright, kid?" 

A dark hand suddenly wavered in front of him, gently grasping his arm and helping him up. Blair looked up to see the face of the yeller - and looked up and up... 

"Wow, you're _big_!" he exclaimed. The face staring at him with a bemused expression was kind, slightly wrinkled around the eyes, and adorned by golden-framed glasses that emphasized the dark-brown eyes. 

"Simon, this is Blair Sandburg. I met him on Main during my break," Jim said softly, unconsciously soothing the boy by playing with strands of his dark curls. 

"I'm going to Minnesota," Blair added helpfully. 

Jim bit back a laugh at the look on Simon's face. The captain looked helplessly at the tiny four-year old who was currently leaning trustingly against the detective's legs. Sobering when he remembered the reason for him to be there, Jim cleared his throat to gain Simon's attention. 

"Could you put out an APB for... Blair, what's your mummy's name again?" 

"Naomi." 

"For Naomi Sandburg, please? And we're going over there to my desk, huh, buddy? You can sit on my chair and, maybe, draw something?" 

Blair looked disgusted. "I'm not _that_ little. I will sit on your desk and _write_ something." And with that, he grabbed his backpack, leaving the suitcase for Jim to carry. 

Simon frowned at his youngest detective. "I'll see what I can find out about Blair and his mum. Did he mention anyone else?" 

Jim shook his head sadly. Sighing, the two watched the tiny figure make himself at home at the huge desk. 

Two hours later, Jim finished his current report with a relieved sigh. Glancing at his watch, he looked over to where Blair was chatting excitedly with Joel and smiled a little. The boy was a whirlwind of sunshine in the often-times somber bullpen and even the darkest mood was lifted today by the charming kid. 

Rising to walk over and find out what tale Blair was spinning, Jim was halted by the opening of Simon's door. The grim expression on the Captain's face made Jim's stomach plummet to the ground. 

"Jim? My office, please." Even if he hadn't seen Simon's face, the quiet entreaty would have been a dead give-away. With a last look to make sure that Blair was occupied and wouldn't notice his absence, Jim followed Banks into the office. 

Shutting the door, Jim faced his Captain. "Okay, tell me." 

"It's not good, Jim," he held up a fax. "This was sent by the Fairmont PD. Lieutenant Teller is an old friend, so he made it fast." Biting on his unlit cigar one last time, Simon pulled it from his mouth. "Naomi Sandburg was killed yesterday in a car accident. The file," he handed it over to Jim, who looked it over distractedly, "says she was an only parent, no father listed. She doesn't have close family either, except an old aunt who's living in a sanatorium in Florida." 

"Damn," Ellison murmured. "So, the boy's alone?" 

"Looks like. We have to find out were he was staying while his mother was in Minnesota and-" 

"Yeah, right," Jim interrupted harshly. "Like they did such a great job the last time. Simon, the boy was alone on the streets and somehow I get the feeling he's not so hot on going back to where he ran away from." 

Despite the serious situation, Simon had to bite back a grin. "He'd rather walk all over the country, huh?" 

Gaze on the curly haired boy that was currently clapping excitedly, Jim nodded gravely. "Yes, he would." 

Groaning, Simon rubbed his hands over his face wearily. "Look, Bill said Ms. Sandburg had an emergency number in her wallet, some guy from Rogers and Clamp." 

"The law firm?" Jim queried with a frown, glancing at the file again. He had no idea what someone like Naomi Sandburg had to do with slick suits like Rogers and Clamp - she'd been arrested two times for indecent behavior and another two times for protesting and chaining herself to various buildings. 

Simon nodded. "Bill called them already and it looks like Naomi left specific instructions concerning her son. It's just that they can't do anything about it immediately." Sighing, Banks braced himself. "I need to call social services, Jim. Maybe they can place him with a family or something. If we're lucky, it will only be for one night." 

Straightening in his chair, Jim heard a sudden bout of pearly laughter floating in. Slowly shaking his head, he fixed his boss with his best non-nonsense glare. "Blair's coming home with me." Sensing the immediate protest, Jim held up his hands. "Think about it, Simon. He already trusts me, and you know how long it will take social services to place him somewhere. He'll probably spend the night in some office, scared to death. And you said it yourself, it's probably only for one night." 

"Right." For long minutes, Simon stared at his best detective searchingly. Finally, he sighed explosively. "Okay, Jim, you can take him with you. But first thing in the morning you bring the kid in. I'll try to get an appointment with the lawyers as soon as possible. Jesus, what a mess." 

Instead of agreeing whole-heartedly, Jim couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been granted a wonderful chance. The bright and affectionate child touched something in him that no one else could anymore. Ever since the dramatic changes in his life when his father had been killed barely one year ago, Jim had felt overwhelmed and out of his depths, unable to settle down. But now, after only a couple of hours with the little waif he'd rescued off the streets, he felt more centered and calm than he had in ages. 

Nodding dutifully to Simon, he headed outside. "Hey, sport, what'cha up to?" he said cheerfully, gaining Blair's attention and a beautiful smile in return. 

"Up," the four-year-old demanded by way of an answer. Jim complied immediately, faking a groan. Once Blair was settled in his arms, Jim thanked Joel and walked over to his desk to shut down the computer and put away the files he'd been working on. He was very careful doing that - the last thing he wanted was the boy to see some nasty crime scene pictures. He managed all of it without disentangling the little leech that was playing absently with his short hair. 

"Jim?" Blair asked after a while, oddly shy. 

"Yeah?" 

"Why are you calling me names?" 

Stopping in his movement to lock the drawer with his second gun in it, Jim turned halfway so that he could look Blair in the face. "What do you mean?" 

Considering the question, Blair's face crunched up in concentration. "You know, names," he said finally. "Like junior, or sport, or-" 

"Kiddo?" Jim added with a grin. At the tiny boy's nod, the detective wriggled them into a position where he could cup the small face. "Those are nicknames, Blair. When you like someone, you give them a special name. Didn't your mom ever call you something special?" 

A glow danced over Blair's face and his eyes lit up like beacons. "Sweetie! She always said 'There's nothing more important in the world than you, Sweetie.'" 

Nodding, Jim accepted the enthusiastic hug from the excited kid despite the slight tightening of his throat. When Blair pulled back, though, there was a frown on his face. "So when you give me nicknames," he said in his best lecture-voice, counting the points off with his fingers. "And _you_ said that you only give nicknames to someone when you _like_ them." The hands landed motionless on his lap and the boy lowered his head, making his hair was fall over his eyes. "Does that mean you like me? 'cause you know, not everybody does. I am diff-i-cult and an annoy-ance." 

Straining to hear the quiet words, Jim was a little thrown by their meaning. I sounded like something Blair had heard so often he had it memorized. "I sure like you, buddy," he answered gently and was relieved when the boy met his gaze searchingly. "You're you and I wouldn't have it any other way, got it?" 

Slowly, the smile returned to Blair's face. "Got it." Turning to some formerly blank pages that he'd been working on, the small boy picked on and held it up. "Look what I painted!" he crowed, waving the paper in front of Jim's face. 

Steadying it, Jim made a big show of studying the picture. It was a jungle scene, complete with huge trees and snakes. Oddly enough, perched in one corner was an animal that vaguely looked like a dog. 

"Hey sport, what's that?" Pointing at it, Jim raised an eyebrow as Blair looked at him with something akin to disgust. 

"That's the wolf. Of course." 

Jim bit back a grin. "Ah. Of course. But what's he doing in a jungle? Isn't he kind of alone there?" 

The young boy shook his head adamantly. "Nope. He's got the bestest friend in the world there with him." 

"And who would that be?" Jim was intrigued. Blair almost glowed with excitement as he put his finger on the picture. Now that the boy indicated it, Jim noticed a black tail behind one of the trees, which skillfully hid the rest of the animal. Looked like Blair knew his limits when it came to drawing. 

"They're soul-mates, you know." 

Jim nodded gravely. "Best friends usually are. So, the wolf and the..." Pausing intentionally, Jim waited for Blair's imagination to explain the feline tail that seemed to swish nervously. 

"Panther. A black panther with blue eyes." The four-year old yawned a little, reminding Jim that the boy probably needed to take a nap. With a little gentle coaxing he got Blair to lie down on the couch in Simon's office. To his surprise, the big captain didn't even bat en eyelid when he asked. 

He even got some work done, reports mostly, and was almost surprised when H tapped him on the shoulder. "Simon says, and I quote: 'Go home, Ellison and take that little leech with you'." 

Looking over to where the door to the Captain's office was usually closed, Jim saw that it was wide open, revealing a crumpled looking Blair lecturing Simon on something. Focusing his hearing slightly, Jim was able to make out the words: "cigar", "lung cancer" and "dying _way_ too young". Well, it sounded like he finally had an ally in that department. 

Quickly striding over to rescue his little charge from the big captain's sure to follow bellow, he was surprised to see Simon fight a smile and Blair grinning from ear to ear. He was hiding Simon's treasured cigar leather case behind his back. "No smoking, mister," he said sternly. "Only chewing. Deal?" 

Waiting a moment for drama's sake, Simon spit into his hand. "Deal." 

Doing the same, Blair grabbed the big hand and shook it as forcefully as he could. Then he gave the cigars back solemnly and leaned against Jim's legs. 

Picking the boy up, Jim mustered the little pixie face. "What do you think, wanna come home with me tonight?" 

"And sleep over?" 

Jim swallowed hard at the innocent question. There'd be a lot of 'sleeping over' for Blair from now on. "Yeah, buddy," he said a bit roughly. "We're gonna have pizza and maybe watch a movie." Blair nodded enthusiastically, strengthening the detective's resolve to do everything in his power to spoil the kid rotten in the time they had together. 

Remembering his living situation, the big detective frowned a little. "Blair, you don't mind sharing a room with my little brother now, do you?" 

Staring up at him with big eyes, Blair's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "You have a little brother? What's his name? Is he older than me? And we really can share?" 

"Whoa, slow down there, Darwin. Yes, I've got a little brother. His name is Steven and he's thirteen. He's been living with me since our father died and he may not be that enthusiastic about giving up his space, so I need you to stick with me, alright?" Thinking about coming home with a four-year-old made Jim realize how true that statement really was. Steven wasn't a bad kid, he'd just had a rough time, losing both his parents at such a young age. And Jim knew that he wasn't the brightest crayon in the box when it came to parenting. 

Blair didn't seem fazed by his words at all. The prospect of not having to sleep alone seemed to excite and calm him down at the same time and once again Jim wondered about the life the little boy had lead. However it had been, this part was definitely over. A foster home was the best thing that could happen to Blair, even though it was more likely that he would be placed in an orphanage. But until then, he thought, pulling himself out of these somber thoughts, they had a little time together. 

Jim never stopped to think about his instant connection to the bright little boy. Worrying about Blair's well-being and caring for him came so naturally, that he never considered thinking about a reason. All he did was hoping that the evening wouldn't end in a total disaster. 

* * *

"Hey Jim!" Steven said, without looking up from his stirring. Jim had been able to smell his little brothers cooking from downstairs and by the time he opened the door to the loft with Blair right at his heels, his stomach was growling loudly. Turning around to dump the salad into its bowl, Steven shot a smile at Jim and added the dressing with a flourish. "Dinner will be ready in a sec. Why don't you sit down?" 

Unable to hide his amusement, Jim took his own and Blair's jacket and put them away. "We'll need to set another place, Stevie. We have a guest tonight." Waiting until Steven looked up with big eyes, Jim gave Blair a gentle shove towards the kitchen so that the younger Ellison could see the little boy. "Steven, this is Blair. Blair, my brother Steven." 

Holding out his hand bravely, Blair looked up at the other boy, who was wearing a bewildered expression. "Nice to meet you." 

"Um, hi," was all Steven managed as he shook the tiny hand. Then his eyes narrowed. Ignoring Blair completely, Steven stalked over to where Jim was standing. "You should have called, Jim. Terry and Nick were supposed to come over tonight, remember? What is it with you and making decisions that involve both of us, without ever asking me?" 

Jim, a little thrown by the sudden accusations, cleared his throat warningly. He'd totally forgotten Steven's friends. "I found Blair on the streets, where he was searching for his mother. Alone," he tried to explain. "I volunteered to take him in for the night, before _social services_ picks him up in the morning." Putting emphasis on social services seemed to get through to the younger boy. 

Cursing softly, Steven glanced at Blair, who was watching them sadly. Reacting to the tension between his hosts, the fact that he was alone in a unknown place with complete strangers and the hints he'd gotten over the day that not everything was right in his world anymore, Blair did what every four-year-old would do. He started crying. 

"I want my mommy," he whimpered, turning away. Tiny shoulders shook with his sobs as the small boy cried into his sleeves, trying to hide his misery. 

Cursing again, this time a bit louder than before, Steven reacted before Jim could. "Hey there, munchkin. Don't cry, huh? Shh." And right in front Jim's unbelieving eyes, his little brother gathered the tiny boy in his arms and picked him up. Blair seemed to calm down a bit under Steven's care, burrowing into him, but Jim wasn't able to forgive his brother yet for making the little waif cry in the first place. 

Making a quick decision, though, the older Ellison decided to reap Steven a new one later and have them all settled down first. "Hey kid," he called cheerfully from the kitchen, where he was in the process of saving dinner. "Wanna help me whip some cream for the strawberries?" 

That got Blair's attention instantly. Rubbing over his face with his long sleeves, the little boy disentangled himself from Steven, but stopped only one step away from the teenager. Looking back at Steven, he said, "I like you. Don't be sad that you lost your mommy and daddy, they are watching over you now," he said in such a sweet voice that Steven flushed a deep red in consternation. 

"Thank you, Blair. And I'm sorry, too, for making you cry. Friends?" 

A big smile bloomed on Blair's face. "We already are, you know. 'Cause you called me munchkin." And with that pearl of wisdom, leaving Steven behind a little confused but glad that he'd made up for being an ass, one Blair Sandburg ran over to Jim to whip some serious cream. 

* * *

"Where am I going to sleep?" 

Looking up from putting the finishing touches to the sauce, Steven frowned. "You know, that's a d-" catching himself in the last second, he added, "um, a darn good question, Blair." 

Chuckling, Jim reached over to pinch his little brother in the side. "Good catch, there." 

To his surprise, Steven grinned at him. He'd called his friends earlier, to cancel their get together, and had decided to stay with Jim and Blair rather than going over to Nick's. 

Jim gave his brother a crooked smile. "I was hoping Blair here could sleep in your room for the night? He was really excited when I told him I had a little brother, you know..." 

Steven's face darkened with renewed anger. "Awesome," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why the hell not? It's not like I want some privacy once in a while." 

"Yay!" Blair chirped, charging at Steven full-throttle. The impact rocked the teenager, but his shout of protest went unheard as Blair started to prattle on about all the fun they would have all the while using Steven's legs to run slalom around them. 

"Jesus," Steven sighed, shooting Jim a long.suffering glance. "Does he ever run out of energy?" 

"Occasionally," Jim answered. "So..." 

Steven rolled his eyes. "One night. That's it, Jim, I mean it." 

Relieved, Jim nodded. "Thanks, Steven." 

"Yeah, whatever." Turning back to his cooking, Steven proceeded to ignore Blair's constant comments and questions, obviously having decided that the boy was Jim's responsibility. But even while Jim was looking for something - anything - to distract the four-year-old, he suddenly became aware of the ominous silence from the kitchen. 

Fearing the worst, he peeked over the railing of his upstairs bedroom where he'd been looking for a box of Steven's old toys, he was stunned to see Blair sitting on the kitchen counter, happily stirring the sauce. As he watched, Steven wordlessly handed over a piece of the cucumber he was cutting for the salad to the boy, nodding at the chirped "thank you, Stevie". 

Huh, Jim thought to himself. Maybe this would work out better than thought. 

* * *

Despite the near disaster that Steven's attempt at cooking had come to - apparently he'd gotten some of the herbs mixed up - the eating itself was a pleasant affair. In fact, having Blair around made sure that there was no chance for the usual awkwardness to come up, which so often kept Jim and Steven from having fun together. 

They seemed unable to settle in their new relationship, where Jim was supposed to be a parent, the one to discipline, and had lost the easy camaraderie that had helped them to survive their father's mind games. It had been hard for Jim to get custody for his brother. Since he was unmarried and a cop, social services seemed to think that he wouldn't be able to care properly for a child. But with Simon's help and Sally's constant support, Jim had managed to keep them together. 

It wasn't easy most of the time. Jim himself was barely old enough to drink alcohol himself, never mind being responsible for a teenager slash child all of a sudden. But he would have done anything to keep their diminished family together and to spare his little brother what Blair was most likely to endure - being sent from one foster family to another with slim to none chances of being adopted. 

Right now, though, sitting on the couch with Blair on his lap, Steven at his side, watching "The Lion King" and eating popcorn, Jim could easily forget the outside world and its lack of fairness. 

Steven had protested at first when Blair had chosen to watch a Disney movie, but one pleading look from their little guest made him change his mind. Jim smiled inwardly as he now watched the teenager fight tears. 

Tears? 

Turning his attention back to the screen, Jim noticed for the first time that something serious was going on. A stampede crashed through a valley and there was little Simba, right in the middle of it. His father rushed in to save him, grabbing the little baby lion, jumping up to bring him to safety and then... 

Uh-oh. 

"Jim?" Blair's little voice sounded timid as he looked up at the cop with tear-filled eyes. "Mufasa's gone, right?" 

Uh-oh. Not good. Recognizing the odd choice of words immediately, Jim knew where this was going. He hesitated briefly, but somebody had to tell the boy and at least Blair trusted him. 

Jesus, this was going to be hard. 

Even Steven looked up with a frown - for once he seemed to be attuned to emotions that weren't his own. Turning the TV off with the remote, he got up to make some tea. Jim had briefed him earlier about what had happened to Blair's mother and he wasn't keen on being near the little boy when his brother told him. He wasn't much use when it came to the emotional stuff most of the time anyway. 

Jim tolerated Steven's attempt to distancing himself and focused his full attention on Blair. "Yes, kiddo. Mufasa's gone. Do you know what that means?" 

"That he's dead? Is... is my mommy..." Tears found their way down Blair's little pixie face as he struggled with the words. It damn near broke Jim's heart. "Jim, my Mommy?" 

Pulling him tightly against his chest, Jim whispered: "I'm so sorry, munchkin." 

Blair cried for a long time, heart-broken sobs wracking him. Jim cradled the tiny body in his arms and felt an overwhelming urge to protect the little orphan, to make the pain go away. But of course he couldn't, so he did the next best thing. Rocking the crying child back and forth gently, Jim closed his eyes and hummed a familiar tone that he distinctly remembered his mother singing to him once when he'd been sick. 

Warmth at his side startled him into opening his eyes. Steven was suddenly there, leaning into his side without meeting his searching gaze. The forgotten tea-cups were standing on the kitchen counter as Steven sneaked one arm around Blair and together the two brothers did their best to soothe the devastated little boy. 

* * *

"Detective Ellison? I'm Tobias Rogers." 

Taking the outstretched hand hesitantly, Jim shook it nonetheless. "Good to meet you," he murmured. 

The other man smiled, a pleasant expression on his smooth face that made him look boyish and almost too young to be taken seriously. "And I see you've brought little Blair with you. How are you, Blair?" 

Standing shyly hidden behind Jim's legs, a position that he hadn't given up since coming into the attorney's office, the little boy said nothing. Rogers didn't seem to be fazed by that, he just continued to smile and then gestured towards the chairs in front of his huge desk. 

"I'm sure you've got a lot of questions, both of you, but let me begin by telling you a little about what kind of woman Naomi Sandburg was." 

Surprised, Jim nodded, sitting down and pulling Blair into his lap without thinking. A young woman brought coffee for the two men and some cocoa for Blair and when they were all settled with their cups in hands, Rogers continued his speech. "I met Naomi six years ago, at a concert. She was full of life and ideals, wanting to make the world a better place. She hated the establishment with a passion and our friendship almost came to an end when I decided to become a lawyer - in her opinion I was voluntarily signing up to be a puppet of the government. It took time, but eventually I could make her see what I could do to help people _because_ of my job." 

Jim listened intently, even as he asked himself what all this had to do with Blair. 

As if reading his mind, Rogers smiled again. "You're probably asking yourself why I'm telling you this. See, Naomi has left me with exact instructions concerning her son, should something happen to her, but they're a little..." the lawyer hesitated for a moment, obviously searching for the right words. "Well, let's just say that they're a bit eccentric. To understand them, you gotta understand the woman behind them." 

Waiting for Jim's hesitant nod, Rogers gaze turned to the little boy, who was intently sipping his cocoa. "When you were born, Blair, Naomi was overjoyed. You were the light of her life, her reason for wanting to make everything right." 

Looking at Jim again, Rogers seemed to bask a moment in the brilliance of Blair's smile before he sobered again. "Naomi had no family. No one to help her through the rough patches, no one to run to when everything got too much. Except me, that is. But she hated Cascade and so I didn't see her much these last years - but she made sure that I always knew where she was. I'd love to take Blair in myself, Detective Ellison." 

Stiffening at the surprising words, Jim sat up straight. Rogers noticed his reaction and continued quickly. "But that isn't how Naomi wanted it. I would have gotten him if this had happened a year ago, but when Blair turned four, she changed her instructions. To cut a long story short, Blair is to decide where he wants to live." 

Jim was flabbergasted. Had he just heard right? A four-year-old was to decide who'd take care of him from now on? 

"What?" he bursted out. "Is that even legal?" 

Rogers smiled calmly. "I'm a lawyer. Of course it's legal. As long as Blair's decision is reasonable - I will be the judge of that - and the person he chooses is willing to take him in. There will be regular check-ups to see that he is all right, too." 

"I don't want to go back to Susie," Blair said decisively, indicating for the first time that he understood what was being said about his future. 

The lawyer grimaced a little. "I can understand that. And I'm sorry, Blair. N'omi would have left you with me, but I've been away on a business trip for the last two weeks." 

Directing a somber gaze at him, Blair asked: "And you're sure that my mommy's not coming back?" 

Rogers looked down, playing with some papers on his desk. "Yes," he said roughly. "I'm sure. She's not coming back, Blair." 

"Then I want to live with Jim and Steven." 

Jim - who'd just taken a big gulp of coffee - spit out his mouthful in shock. Rogers didn't seem to be surprised at all, he calmly got some paper towels and dubbed at the mess on his deck. "Blair," he said softly, after Jim's coughing and the little boy's gleeful giggling had ebbed down. "Look, you don't have to decide right now. There are a lot of people who'd be honored if you chose to stay with them. Me included." 

The lawyer sounded wistful and his gentle eyes were full of longing. Blair - as Jim had noticed before - was an exceptional sympathetic child, bordering on empathic, and was looking at Rogers now with consternation. "But I can't stay with you," he whispered. "I'm supposed to be with Jim." 

And as far-fetched the words should have sounded to Jim, as soon as Blair said them with quiet conviction, the cop felt something inside him slip into place. It was like he'd finally found a missing part of himself. 

Giving a resigned nod, Rogers shuffled his papers until he'd found a black manila folder. "As soon as I heard about what had happened with Naomi, I looked for Blair. Your captain told me that he was staying with you, Detective, and even though he assured me that Blair would be perfectly safe, I took the liberty of checking your background." 

Jim nodded, hiding a grin. He felt great all of a sudden, the prospect of having Blair live with them filled him with an almost absurd surge of happiness and _rightness_. 

"You live with your brother? Alone?" 

"Yes. But we do have Sally. She was our Nanny and is now coming over three times a week to cook for us and look after Steven when I'm at work. I'm sure she'll love to have a baby around again and paying her is not an issue as you surely know." 

Ignoring Blair's mumbled protest at being called a baby, Jim pulled the sleepy child in his arms. It was fast becoming an addiction, having him so close all the time. 

Rogers shook his head. "Money won't ever be a problem, if you decide to take Blair in. His mother has arranged for payments of 500$ per month till Blair is 18. There will be enough money left then to guarantee him a good college education without ever having to worry." 

Whistling softly, Jim raised an eyebrow. "And how does a happy-go-lucky, hippie flower-child come to that kind of money?" 

"Ever heard of Tara Nolanis?" 

Jim did a double-take. "That obnoxious woman who writes books for parents? Yeah, Sally gave me her newest one for Christmas. I read some of it, but when I came to the 'detach with love' part, I gave up." 

Rogers winced. "Uh, yes. Not one of her best chapters." 

"You telling me that Naomi Sandburg wrote those books?" 

The lawyer smiled sharply. "Yeah," he said, sounding self-satisfied. "And made a fortune with them. It was the perfect compromise between doing something for the community and making sure that Blair was taken care of - financially - at the same time." 

"So does she tell her readers to let their kids decide where to live, too?" Jim really couldn't help the sarcasm. There was no way he'd just take what that lawyer had to dish out. 

Fighting a smile, Rogers leaned back in his seat. "No," he said slowly, clearly trying to placate the agitated cop. "Blair is a special case. You must have noticed that he is exceptionally bright for his age." 

"He _did_ correct Steven's spelling yesterday," Jim conceded. 

"Naomi truly believed that Blair would know what was right for him. She always listened to him when it came to people." 

"Not always." Blair seemed to be mad about that. He roused himself from his comfy place snuggled on Jim's lap to glare at Rogers. "I _told_ her that I didn't want to stay with Mike. I like Susie, but she's at work all the time. Mike is mean." Raising an eyebrow, Jim had to remind himself that finding and killing this Mike was not an option. 

Rogers was watching him intently. "Don't worry about it, Blair. You don't have to see Mike ever again if you don't want to. They have been informed that you are taken care of, and Susie at least was very worried. You left the house alone?" 

"I had to search for Mommy," Blair said solemnly. "I didn't know then, that she..." When he hesitated and looked to the ground, Rogers grimaced. 

"I'm so sorry, Blair," he said. "If I could bring her back to you, I would. I miss her too, you know." 

"Yeah," Blair murmured. "She liked you. A lot." 

To Jim's amusement, Rogers blushed. "She was, uh, very special." Clearing his throat, the lawyer focussed again on Jim. "I know that this is a huge decision to be making, Mr. Ellison, so what I'd like to do is give you a period of four weeks before you make any final arrangements." 

Jim pressed a kiss on top of Blair's head. "I don't think that will be necessary." 

"Right," Rogers said with a wry smile. "Still, it's a formality that is contractually predefined, so unfortunately we can't just skip it. In four weeks I will need these papers back, signed or unsigned, and that will be your final decision." 

Jim nodded, mind already made up. There was no way he was giving Blair up. 

"On a more personal note," Rogers continued, "I want you to know that I will always be available if you want to talk, or even if you need someone to look after Blair." He looked down for a moment, and when his eyes again met Jim's, his gaze was warm and open. "Please, call me if things get tough, yeah? Here's my business card, on the back is my private number. I'm Toby, then." 

On his lap, Blair perked up. "Hi, Toby!" He sing-songed. "You have your nice face on again!" 

Laughing out loud, Toby leaned back in his seat and reached up to loosen his tie. "That's right, Care-Blair. What I just told Jim, that goes for you, too, okay? No more wandering around alone, ever, you hear me?" 

The protective tone should have Jim's hackles rising, he figured, but instead all it did was endear the lawyer to him. Anyone who cared so much about a child was a good one in his books. "I'll help you remember the number later," he told Blair. "Mine too, and I want your to always call one of us first if you're ever scared or hurt, deal?" 

Looking at him with big, wide eyes, Blair nodded. "Or 9-1-1," he added solemnly. 

"That's my smart boy," Jim grinned, giving Blair a quick tickle before gathering the boy and the stack of papers he would have to sign. "Toby, it was nice to meet you. We'll be in contact." 

Toby nodded and got up to bring them to the door. Leaning down from his perch in Jim's arms, Blair spread his arms wide and gave Toby a quick hug. "See you, Toby! Now you gotta be Mr. Rogers again, though." 

Chuckling, Toby did just that, hiding those expressive eyes behind a professional mask that was all too familiar to Jim. He saw it every time he looked in a mirror. "Thank you, Mr. Rogers," he said roughly, a bit shaken by the whole thing. "We'll stay in touch." 

Rogers nodded and they shook hands. "That we will, Mr. Ellison. And don't forget what I said." He winked, a decidedly Tobyish gesture, and then they were ushered out of the door. 

Only half-listening to Blair's random chatter as they walked back to the car, Jim had a sudden feeling of dread. What that hell had he just done? 

* * *

"Um, Steven?" 

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Steven looked up from his book. "Yeah?" 

Jim was standing in the doorway, looking very uncomfortable. That alone let every warning bell in his head go off, but adding to that a beaming Blair and he smelled a catastrophe. 

"There's something I need to tell you." Now Jim looked apologetic. Not fucking good. "See, Blair's mother left these instructions concerning Blair-" 

"I know, Jim, that was the reason you two had to get up so early this morning," Steven interrupted his brother. "I could have slept in, you know, but no chance of that with Hurricane Blair on the loose." 

"Look, Steven," Blair cut in, clambering on the bed. He was struggling with a heavy plastic bag. "Jim bought all of my Mommy's books so that he knows what she would have done." 

Jim winced visibly and Blair looked like a cat who'd gotten the canary. That didn't make much sense, except... 

"Jim! Please tell me you didn't volunteer us to take Blair in!" 

Looking sheepish, the older Ellison pointed at the little boy. "Ah, no. Not exactly. _He_ did." 

Nodding furiously, Blair turned his big blue eyes at Steven. "We're gonna be brothers! Isn't that great?" 

"Yeah," Steven murmured acidly. "Really great." 

And if Jim had learned one thing during the time living with his little brother, it was that sarcasm was a bad sign. There'd be hell to pay sooner or later, but right now, he could've cared less. All that mattered was that their family was complete again. Misshapen, maybe, and a little odd, but _there_. 

Grinning, Jim joined the two boys on the bed and began to tickle them mercilessly. Family, indeed.


End file.
